Porcelain
by dib07
Summary: Trilogy to Sonic's Need. After the prognosis of Sonic's condition, a new kaleidoscope of darkness opens up. Sonic's mind state goes up and down, but everyone seems to be coping more or less, even Dr. Eggman. One night however befalls an ugly tragedy, yet it's the horror that emerges from within that is more disturbing. It all started with 'the man at the window.'
1. Butterflies in a Hurricane

**A Sonic's Need Production**

**Porcelain  
**

By Dib07

Hello! To all my dear faithful readers who have been with me from the very beginning, I thank you deeply. It was only from the pure support of Sonic's Need that I have got this far. There are simply too many of you to name and personally thank, but if you have ever reviewed, you already know how grateful and pleased I am from each of you. To all those new readers out there, I'm sorry. This story is going to be dark, bitter and full of dead roses. I am Dib07. I take no prisoners. But please enjoy. Like all my other fics, I pride myself on plot, as well as dark, oozing angst.

Now, for the story. For almost a year the need to write this next chapter in Sonic's life had been plaguing me. For each review or message I received from a reader in late 2012 and in the New Year, I was encouraged to write another instalment. Though I was pleased the readers wanted more, as I did, I had no idea, no 'plot' to do so. And as much as I love angst, I deeply invest in plot as well. It structures the story and keeps it rolling, and even if I took a week out of writing, I still know where all the characters are going. Then the idea hit me while I was at work and everything fell into place. On that very same evening when I got home, I wrote up the entire script of plot in a rough draft. At last!

Without further ado I shall leave you now to read and enjoy the story, but please do read the warning I have posted before Chapter 1. Please.

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DC, if you ever read this, I don't mind if you don't, but I would just like you to know that I am keeping up with tradition of the number (yes, that number) and apples! XD

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A special thank you to you, Sara (aka FullRings) I still leisurely feast my eyes on 'Inside the washing machine.' That picture was the breath of my story, and every time I think of 'I'll Be Right Here,' that picture comes instantly to mind like a poster for a film!

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MizukiiMoon I hope you enjoy this! Some part of me tells me you already will, but still I worry (Lol I am Mr Self Doubt!) Anyway, welcome to the new adventure I know you have been waiting for!

Pokemonpuck, thanks for the story titles! They are not easy to think of but I went for this one. It was my first gut idea and I wasn't sure about it at the time but then it just kinda...stuck. So yeah, please enjoy! The plot is going to get so horribly dark that you may just end up hating it, who knows lol.

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**What-went-before**

Stretching all the way back to **Sonic's Need**, Sonic and Eggman squared off as usual but this time Christopher got caught in the middle of their lethal fight for dominance. In an avid act of bravery, Sonic stepped in to save the boy, only to get harmed himself in a blaze of smoke and fire. Though he was saved eventually, it wasn't until later in **I'll Be Right Here** that the full extent of Sonic's damage became clear. Haunted by doubt and denial, the family needed persuasive encouragement, and helped by Knuckles' guidance, took Sonic to see specialized care. His personality was different now and then, and his behaviour was odd and sometimes creepy with his manic need to dig holes.

After taking (stealing) the X-Tornado from Tails in a massive and unresolved decision to see Eggman, Sonic took himself to his base for a confrontation. The plane blew up when Sonic failed to apply the correct landing equipment and the engine caught fire, resulting in a catastrophic explosion. Left with Eggman, the evil scientist took him to hospital in a bid to save him, and during the trip to the hospital, something changed in Dr. Eggman too.

Eventually after many tests, Dr. C. Clover diagnosed Sonic with psychosis, brain trauma, and damage to the kidneys and stomach. This was a lot to take in. Though Dr. Clover was very encouraging, telling Christopher, Tails and Chuck that medication and early detection was vital for Sonic to live a normal life; it was still a heavy blow. The old Sonic, the true Sonic, was lost forever, trapped behind injury and could never be remedied, no matter how many drugs were employed.

Even Dr. Eggman, renowned for his employment of dark methods and deadly arsenal of robots and who accidently set Sonic on such a rollercoaster of insanity, came to personally apologize to Tails not long after the X-Tornado had been blown up by the confused hedgehog. Tails regarded Eggman's apology as the final knockback. If Sonic's famous rival was also giving up, then this undoubtedly proved that this was no joke. The world had slipped from beneath him like a rug being pulled under his feet, and nothing would be the same again.

Knuckles came to offer a final solution. To take Sonic to the Master Emerald just to see if it could unlock the old Sonic, heal the damage, and instil new life.

And here is where this new and final instalment begins.

**STOP! BEFORE YOU READ, CONSIDER THIS NOTICE:**

This is a Sonic angst novel – a typical Dib07 fanfiction story. All those who know me, know how terrible and dark I can be with said characters. On that note, may I warn you first and foremost that this is no fanfiction for the very young or those easily upset. This may only be a Teen fic, but Sonic's condition will and does deteriorate throughout the story. There are also lots of other dark things that cannot be yet said due to plot spoilers, and if the age rating goes up, it will. Please, I am warning you now, for there will be no further barriers. It will get ugly. I will show **no** mercy.

Thank you for reading.

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**Chapter 1: Butterflies in a Hurricane**

"Morning! Morning!" Said the big man with a giant, diaphanous smile stretching across his far lips. In both arms he carried gift boxes filled with chocolate. There were Easter eggs for each of them, even for the human residents of the Thorndyke mansion. There they tied up in big, colourful ribbons (Chuck suspected that the florist or shop worker had dressed them up, for he couldn't ever possibly imagine_ him_ doing it), and before the big man had even set them down, Cream, Cheese and Amy were tearing them open as if the gifts were straight out of Santa's sack of presents. Of course, the real reason Dr. Eggman came was not to deliver presents as such (though it helped build a steady, friendly reputation nonetheless) his main intention was always to see his old rival. It wasn't guilt that kept bringing him back. Of course, he felt guilt. There was no denying it. Sonic had always been so wily, fast and immortal. Actually hurting _him_ had never come to mind. And Eggman had hurt him. And it could never be taken back. But that was in the past. He came simply because his eager plot for world domination was over. It was hard to turn over a new leaf and begin again, especially when Earth was so boring without having to exert his authority, and execute a ton of war on people. He didn't like to class himself as 'retired' either. The word alone sounded too final, too ugly and abstract, and it also seemed to age him. So he was becoming a new uncle of sorts. At first he wasn't sure why he kept coming over, and delivering presents like some father going through the diarrhoeal runs of divorce. But as the months passed, and Amy and Cream grew more accustomed to his friendly visits when nothing ill followed, and even Chris began to relax, something happened. And Eggman found the reason he kept coming back, month after month. When he did find out, he recoiled from the very thought at once as if it was a sharp-toothed viper loaded with virulent poison. It was because he _liked_ Sonic. Really liked him. He struggled to accept it.

Him, liking a dopey hedgehog?

After he denied his love for animals long ago unless they were cooked and slightly well-done on his plate dressed in a salad? Preposterous, surely? But as Sonic deteriorated – as they all suspected he would, Eggman was allowing that feeling of amity grow with each and every visit. Sonic no longer remembered who Eggman was and who he used to be. So why should Dr. Eggman hold a grudge and remember his tyrannical attempts when it was all but shadow and memories now?

Tails was standing in the doorway. He hadn't come over and taken his share of the Easter chocolate. Instead he was keeping a wary eye on Eggman. Everybody else had accepted the human. Everybody else except the two-tailed fox. His protection over Sonic had grown. Perhaps disproportionately so. And who could blame him?

Amy was unwrapping the pink, lurid foil wrapped around her Easter egg. Cream and Cheese both had smaller versions wrapped in gaudy yellow, or gold. He just sort of grabbed them off the shelf at the time and dumped them in a trolley with scant regard. All he did as count. One for each of the humans, and one for each of the animals, regardless of the milk content in the chocolate.

Three months ago, or was it four? Knuckles had taken Sonic to the Master Emerald as promised on a warm, sunny afternoon. Eggman wasn't particularly hopeful in any case. The animals still seemed devoted to magic, no matter the logic of the modern world. But despite how he disapproved of them, they still managed to surprise him every now and then.

His belief was confirmed. Knuckles led Sonic to that throbbing green Master Emerald that not so long ago Eggman would have looked upon in envy and spite. Now to him it was a giant, gaudy gem of beautiful radiance and fairy tale enchantment. It stood on the top of its stone podium where ivy and other weeds took their place and spiralled up and along old flagstones, pillars and chipped stone steps. Again Tails had avoided him that day too, keeping always a wide distance as if Eggman would suddenly snap out a rocket bomb and terminate them all in a folly of smiles and farewells.

Sonic's wide, vacant stare hadn't changed much since then. He stared at that emerald as if trying to comprehend it. Like a tiny toddler trying to comprehend a tower block made out of Lego pieces.

And oh, the disappointment. It was on everyone's faces really, like a particularly vituperative and contagious disease. And Tails was the worst affected. He looked so pale, even despite the fur covering the alabaster of his face, and looked ready to faint. He probably didn't believe in the Master Emerald either, but oh, hope was such a black charmer sometimes. Keeping you on your toes. Feeding you fake promises. And when that tiny, lying hope was finally subtracted from the equation Tails looked ready to collapse when he saw nothing but raw emptiness and well...hopelessness.

Eggman wanted to walk on over, close that filling gap and place a hand on the small fox's shoulder. But he didn't.

Knuckles had the same hunch and low stoop and mannerism of an outcast. He couldn't even look at Tails anymore.

Suffice to say, they took Sonic home.

And now here he is, some three or four months later looking on while Amy and Cheese tuck into their chocolate as if they have been starved all week. Chuck is rubbing his hands together like a preacher plagued with arthritis. Chris comes in with a mug of hot tea in his hand and looking delightfully at all the Easter eggs still in their bows and ribbons. However he too still carries that air of depression and dark sorrow.

He turned to Sonic who sat, despondent and overly quiet on the sofa not paying any attention to the ebb and flow of life around him. He was clutching a stuffed toy tiger to him with adamant strength. Eggman saw him with it all the time now, since last he visited and now today. At first he thought it odd and strangely disturbing to see Sonic, who was once intelligent and keen on the world in all his adult flair of life, to be with a stuffed toy. He took it everywhere with him, so his family had explained. From the bathroom, to shopping trips, to the cinema and to the park. The agony only started when the tiger had to be washed. And dried. Sonic could not cope with the separation, (so Eggman had been told) and wailed for its return. The tiger, with its button eyes and stripy fur of bright orange and yellow, even had a name. Sonic called it Arthur, from the fairy tales Tails read him every night.

And now, as Easter eggs were opened and savaged by the girls, Sonic sat in the middle of the sofa, hugging Arthur, and seemed utterly and totally distant from it all. Sonic was on the same plane as everyone else, but in a different dimension. Eggman approached him, and he saw Tails stiffen in the edge of his peripheral vision. The fox at once left the doorway to commence operation Defend. Eggman merely lifted up a toothy smile and sat beside his old nemesis. The blue hedgehog looked very sick. And thinner from last he saw of him. Ribs were showing through that once majestic shine of azure. Now that fur was turning to a dull, greyish blue and thinning irrevocably. Dark shadows of sleepless nights were violet crescents beneath the hedgehog's hooded eyes.

Tails was beside Eggman now, not too close, but close enough to be involved. "Sonic?" Dr. Eggman asked, not expecting a response straight away. He often got one if he exhibited patience. But this time the hedgehog responded on the very first try. He looked, his eyelids lifting up. Green eyes looked up at him and a peel of recognition blossomed there like a heavy rose of vitality. Then something grey and fleeting robbed it, and he only looked on dully.

"Who are you?" He asked in that flimsy, pale voice that simply wasn't how Sonic was supposed to sound. Something monstrous had robbed Sonic blind of his personality, voice, strength and spirit. To Eggman it was like he was sitting next to a stranger.

"It's me. Dr. Eggman."

"Ah yes. I know. You're the Easter egg man."

Eggman didn't know what to say to this. So he merely shrugged and asked, "How have you been, Sonic? Have you been running lately? Up to any coherent mischief?"

Again Sonic – or rather- the interloper - gave him that strange look. Something tiny and shrunken was in his eyes, some pale hope or light that knew Eggman. Knew his exploits and knew the full history of their lives. But it drowned every time, like a hulk of stone dropping into a miasma of oil. And he hugged his toy in comfort.

It was true that Sonic didn't run anymore. It wasn't because he couldn't. Tails and Chuck had made a machine – a running belt so that Sonic could perform his daily ritual as always, with an inbuilt strap to keep him _on _the conveyor belt as it moved. For he kept veering to the left. Either way, it was a grand thing: this machine. Chuck had even installed moving scenery to help give the illusion that Sonic was moving through countryside, a city, a rundown quarry, then more countryside, and finally a safari park. But it was painfully clear that Sonic didn't even wear his famous red and white sneakers. They had been shelved, along with his gloves. Now he wore slippers, just socks, and sometimes the old pair of sandals when they goaded him outside to go to the park or the Sunset bench at the beach or to the Mall. Sonic didn't have much interest in anything these days. Sometimes he'd colour for hours in his colour books, filling a horse and its rider in yellow felt-tip. Then he'd yawn, turn a page, and start filling in a dolphin and the ocean yellow. Or maybe green, or pink, depending on whatever felt-tip pen was closest.

Actually, that was a lie. Sonic did have one major interest. And that interest was Arthur the tiger.

"Coherent mischief." Sonic repeated in a tender voice that sounded ghostly, coming from a body that used to produce a wise-crack every second, and fill anguish with laughter.

"You won't get much out of him. He's tired." Tails said, still standing close-by like a concerned parent.

"Then take this little pip-squeak to bed." He said kindly.

Tails only shook his head. "He won't sleep."

"And why is that?"

"He just can't" Tails returned enigmatically, and sharply. It was obviously something he did not want Eggman to know, or care to know. Eggman wanted to persist on the subject, but retreated from the desire at once. Tails was tender. Maybe even close to tears if Eggman prodded him enough. Today was a sore day for whatever reason.

Eggman looked at Sonic again, and wished he had the wisdom to fix him.

Eggman went to stand, and placed a floppy straw hat on his head. "Well, it's time for me to depart. Engines to fix and oil to replace and all that. Can't have things rusting on me."

Chuck rose to see him out. "Thank you for the gifts, Dr. Eggman." He walked astride of him as they left the parlour and down the main entry hall. "That was too generous of you."

"Well..." He felt uncomfortable. He wanted to see Sonic, and buying eggs was a sure way of doing it. But no matter how nice he tried to play it, Tails still looked fearful every time he turned up. And sometimes, so did Christopher. It seems they were not ready to give up on the past just yet. "...It was nothing really. Can I come another time? Perhaps this Thursday at supper time?"

Chuck pursed his lips together, struggling to rethink the week's schedules. Mostly it was condensed into doctor's appointments, parent's evenings for Chris and his progress at school, and other things. "I can't think of anything right now that would prevent you from coming. I think it would be fine!" He and Eggman shook hands. The gesture was slowly starting to feel more natural.

"Thursday it is then. Oh, and before I go, the red egg is for Sonic."

"All right!" He waved Eggman goodbye, who proceeded down the gravel pathway in his straw hat towards the main gates that were already open. Beyond that was a parked white limoscène with blacked out windows. He clambered into the passenger's side, shut the door and in less than a minute the limo had done a three-point turn and was off down the road. Chuck watched the retreat of the limo and the gas trails from its exhaust pipes for a very long time, as he always did. Then he turned back into the house and closed the door.

xxx

Tails shuffled up to Sonic where Dr. Eggman had sat not a few minutes before. Sonic was making Arthur dance on his knees. The floppy tiger flounced about quite readily for a portly doll.

Sometimes silence was often best for Sonic. He entered his own world quite frequently through a door that stood open inside his mind, and he rarely ventured out of it unless he really had to. And Arthur was that key between worlds. If it wasn't for Arthur, Tails feared Sonic may have lost his cohesion with reality two months ago despite the drugs that were about as useful as popcorn.

"You want to do some puzzles?" Tails asked. "Or eat some chocolate?"

Sonic shivered at the mention of puzzles. It wasn't the homework of riddles he was chilled at. It was the thought of going back into his room where all the terrors lived and fed. "Chocolate." He said.

Tails smiled. "You'll make Arthur all sticky. I think you should put him down."

Sonic's answer was as automatic was it was expected. "Nope."

It was torture to take the tiger away from him. Last week they were walking back from the beach and the sky opened up in a blinding torrent of rain. They bundled Sonic up and kept him dry, but Arthur and Apple (his other stuffed koala) were both ringing wet. Chuck put Arthur and Apple in the washing machine with a jumble of other clothes to be washed, mainly their own that they had been wearing when they got caught in the storm.

With the toys in the machine, everything went okay. The tiger and koala went round and round as the washing machine performed its cycle, and Sonic sat on the tiled kitchen floor, watching them in fascination through the thick glass as they spun round and round. Then the trouble started. Chuck opened the washing machine when its load was done, and he dumped the wet clothes into the laundry basket.

"Now Sonic, I'm going to hang up Arthur and Apple in the garden so that they dry with the rest of the clothes."

"I want them back!" The hedgehog squealed in return, doing his very best to stand up and follow Chuck to the _right _in his passion to grab his toys back. He did one circle, bashed into a table leg but he did manage to propel himself right, something he had never been able to do before. He followed Chuck into the garden and down a sunny stone path that cut through the lush lawn. Chuck, true to his word, hung up Arthur and Apple with pegs on the washing line that was way too high for Sonic to reach. This tested Sonic's patience and after trying to jump numerous times to grab Arthur, he gave up and cried. At first his whimpers were small and soft. But fifteen minutes later and he was bawling his eyes out. Nothing would calm him. Not ice cream, candy or a hot drink. Chuck went periodically to check to see how dry the toy animals were, and in the end Sonic was becoming so hysterical that Chuck had to take them down and dry them quickly with the hairdryer. Once the hedgehog was reunited with them, his tears stopped at once.

But Arthur got so dirty, so quickly that this distressing cycle for Sonic was repeated sometimes once every week. It was a magnet for drool, biscuit crumbs, orange juice stains and so on.

It was funny, and ironic how Sonic found Arthur, or rather, Arthur found them. Either way it was a blessing. The tiger was far more therapeutic and more helpful than drugs could ever be.

Tails stood up and went to claim the red chocolate egg out from the others and proceeded to take it to Sonic.

He remembered that clear, warm day very well. And he was sure Sonic did too.

* * *

**Dib07:** It was a short chapter. Really it was a kind of teaser to get you all liking the flavour and wanting more. Lol. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. I don't know how dark it's going to get, but it's going to get really dark. I bet you are all wondering how I am going to do such a thing. Keep thinking that! :D

Please review, I'm set on this story but a review would be like a little treat to me. It's tasty! Thanks again, and to you all: have a good day!


	2. The Story of Arthur

**Dib07:** Gosh yeah, sorry. Long, long wait for this update, huh? As for the good news I have been having such an awesome ride with this story and I have so much to show you dear readers. So much has been going on lately and this was supposed to be updated in Easter, but things kept distracting me, and yes, distractions can be irksome when this story needs to be shown! Anyway, without further ado, let us continue!

The reviews I have been getting are staggering! The support is always welcomed, it makes me feel like I'm doing something right. So thank you. I want you all to read something different and dark and just enjoy, but it's lovely to see your feedback too.

**Chikokun:** Oooh your review was gorgeous! I'm glad we're so alike! That's why I started writing/pouring Sonic angsty fanfiction, because I love it so much and what was out there already on ffn was simply not enough for me. I had to have so much more! :) And yes, glad you like the development so far! You will not be disappointed. I have slapped myself for lack-of-updates but omg I can't wait to show you what I have in store! You give me tingles just thinking about it! Right, and this is quite creepy, (even for me, don't worry though, it's a cool kind of creepy) but quite a few people have been inquiring about 'the man at the window' and where it has come from. Some like you have said: is it from Wreck-It-Ralph' or something else aka in I'll Be Right Here. I don't really like meddling with people's imaginations (everyone's views are different and have their own opinions) so for those of you who don't want to know and like to imagine what they will, stop reading. As you for Chikokun, you are very, very observant. Sherlock Holmes would be proud. It is in I'll Be Right Here (was it a dream? Trollololol). Your instinct was right. I'd like to think it was from the Wreck It Ralph film, but I haven't seen it yet XD though that will be remedied soon! Anyways, bless you for your review! :)

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**Chapter 2: The Story of Arthur**

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Exactly two weeks ago when the sultry weather was pleasant and warm, Chuck made a suggestion. It was an easy, calm afternoon and the blue of the sky was a heavy, swelling thing that made all else seem to slow down and soak in the heat as if everyone were trapped in a glass ball. And Chuck suggested that Sonic needed a change of scenery, Tails included for just such a little vacation, (who had been feeling the stress of watching the blue hedgehog's every waking moment in case he hurt himself or got into trouble, and no trouble was ever too small for Sonic). Apparently (and this story started off small, just a little rumour that kept reoccurring quite innocently enough as they all do) while Sonic was on his own colouring in, doing dot to dot puzzles or reading picture books, there would be a man standing outside his window peering in – or so the hedgehog kept insisting. Now, Tails rarely left Sonic on his own at all. The fox was literally glued to him. Usually the only time the two-tailed fox left his foster sibling was to get a quick glass of juice, use the bathroom or to get a bite to eat. On one such occasion, Tails had left Sonic to fetch a new colouring book on dinosaurs that had been discounted at the local store for two dollars ninety five. Every other book Sonic owned had been pasted with colour and he was steadily making a library of his incoherent art.

When Tails returned however, crispy new book under one arm with a fresh pack of colouring pencils, Sonic was hugging the bedpost of their bunk, shuddering from head to toe. In his panic he had tried to get out of the room, and had only swerved left, straight into the bed frame where he remained, upset, taut as if snared in wire and thoroughly confused as if he had just walked out from a subway tunnel and into a purple jungle. "The man! The man!" He had said, pointing feverishly at the very window opposite in an accusing whimper. His green eyes had been like giant disks.

Tails walked over to his only bedroom window. It was bordered by pastel blue curtains laced with frilly ribbon. The window overlooked a Thorndyke side garden that grew rose bushes, marigolds and buttercups. Beyond that was the main, tall iron gate that surrounded the allotment against such intruders. There was no one there of course, but Tails made an effort regardless. "I can't see anyone." He explained, turning back to Sonic. "What did this man look like?"

"He looked like a man." By now he had walked away from the bedpost and was kneeling on the carpet to return to his dot-to-dot book. He groped for a pencil, dropped it, and picked it up again. "He was butt-ugly." And as if in silent conclusion, he continued his puzzles as if such an intrusion had never disturbed his play.

Tails couldn't quite decide if this _man _Sonic had seen was real, or just a figment of his imagination. It was true that Sonic had seen things before, among sounds he had heard like someone creaking up the stairs when there had been in fact no one using the stairs at the time, and of strange things in his bedroom closet. But the 'man in the window' like many of Sonic's visionary phobias became a frequent visitor, even though no one else saw them or him or it.

"Hey, Christopher." Chuck peered into the boy's bedroom. Chris Thorndyke had been hunched over his keyboard. The word PAUSE flashed on and off on the screen where a little man was in the middle of firing his heavy assault rifle at a rival player. It was the weekend and Chris had minced through his homework a day before. Now he was playing Stockholm 11. "You want to come with us? We're taking Sonic to the park so he can get some fresh air. Want to come along? They'll be ice cream!"

Chris smiled dubiously. "Urm, no thanks. I'm in the middle of something."

"You sure, Chris?" It was like this every time. Chris was still ashamed of the past, and now he tended to avoid Sonic altogether simply because the hedgehog was...different and was changing into someone else. And Chris, being young himself, didn't exactly know _how_ to interact with Sonic any longer.

"Yeah, but thanks."

"All right, if you say so." Chuck gave Chris one last look, then closed his door. When he did, he heard the game resume and there was a crashing and showering of screams as Christopher nailed his virtual opponent.

xxx

The sunshine was gorgeous. Sonic tried to shy away from it as powerful light showered his eyes. Tails laughed and slipped on a pair of sunglasses on him. The ear rests had to go below his ears and they fitted him just fine. Chuck held Sonic's right hand, and Tails held his left, and they walked towards the park. Sonic followed in the middle like a toddler unpractised in walking. When they came to the road they had to turn right. Sonic found it impossible to do on his own, but Chuck guided him nonetheless, and within twelve seconds they were on the sidewalk on the other side with barely a pause in their step.

The park had just a few children playing on the swings, the slide or the spinning table. The benches weren't occupied, so Chuck set Sonic down and removed his sunglasses. Some of the children had stopped in their feverish antics to stare. Sonic and Tails brought along with them the usual attention of passers-by, sometimes children being the worst offenders. But Tails just ignored them. He was slowly growing used to the unwelcome attention although he still didn't like it.

"What do you want to go on first, Sonic?" Tails asked. Chuck meanwhile was unpacking lunch and a few bottled drinks for them in case they wanted a break. Sonic shook his head and looked down at the toes of his trainers. One of the shoe laces had come undone. Tails noticed and quickly tied it back up again. "Come on, Sonic. You were like this last time, but you really loved the swings once you tried them. Follow me." He offered his hand. Sonic gave it a distasteful look as if he was being given a sour sweet to suck. Then he complied when Tails didn't relent and joined the fox's hand in his. Tails hauled him to his feet and guided him (thankfully to the left) to the swing set. Only one child was swinging on one, but she jumped off and ran to join her friends once she realized the animals were coming her way.

Sonic eyed the swing seat dubiously. He felt its plastic seat with trepid hands and looked at it with very stony eyes as if he was anticipating the swing seat to take a chunk out of his arm. Tails waited, holding the swing chain so that it wouldn't rock uneasily when Sonic tried to scramble up onto it. Meanwhile Chuck had sat himself on the bench beside the supply of snacks and drinks. He had unfolded a newspaper and was looking at its printed contents attentively.

Sonic timidly tried to hook himself over the swing seat. Tails held the chain links tight and supported Sonic with the other hand until Sonic straightened out enough to sit comfortably. Then Tails took the swing seat next to him. Eventually Sonic seemed to realize little by little what he was one and swung to and fro in a frail rhythm while gripping the length of chain on both sides in a death grip. He hadn't seemed flustered at all since leaving his human home. Though Sonic once upon a time loved the outdoors, he had become a creature of comfort and habit – and worse yet - insecurity. Routine was his new religion. Up at morning, with a wash before breakfast, then brushing his teeth before settling down to do some alphabet games or basic memory games. Then he could have a short break of napping, reading or playing with his plastic animal figurines before getting a cupful of medication, then lunch. Then he'd nap safely in his room for hours, enabling Tails to get some time of his own, not that he minded terribly. It was Sonic's unusual night terrors that were the worst. Generally he and Tails slept all night long, leaving them both refreshed for the morning. But for the last few weeks things had started to go awry. It started with the closet, then the stairs outside leading up to the second floor, then the funny noises the radiator made and then to the newest phobia yet - the man at the window. Tails had seen no man, nor any reason to be worried as the things inside the house did their usual grumblings and groaning. Sonic however grew both frantic and terrified, leading to broken sleep and inevitable nausea.

Tails gave the meddlesome situation some careful thought. Would a radio help – playing music in the background the same way a nightlight would alleviate a darkened room? To distract Sonic away from these imagined problems? Perhaps a few electronic candles would help – yes, that might work.

Sonic stopped swinging, hands still groping the chain rope much too tightly. There were two other children in the playground, one lounging down the slide in a bright green parka while the other tried out the seesaw. Both were staring at him and Sonic with bone-deep concentration. Tails had gotten used to all sorts of looks growing up in Christopher's world, but that didn't mean he'd ever get used to it. Ever. It gave him the creeps.

Eventually, Tails turned to the hedgehog who continued to eye up the store across the road and asked, "Hey, Sonic, what are you looking at?"

He lifted up a heavy hand – a gloveless hand - and pointed at the toy store.

"You want to go in there?"

"Beats me." He shrugged his shoulders. Tails got off the swing seat to face him. Though it might have been good to coax the hedgehog out into daylight and into fresh air, the morning light only seemed to exaggerate the numbing, deadened look bitterly conveyed in Sonic's flat green eyes – eyes that had dulled considerably over the few months until they looked old, worn and empty. Like stones. In short, he looked awful in the daylight. Severe shadowing was cast beneath his eyes like inkwells, and his shoulders, hips and spine embellished how gaunt he was becoming. What was left of him was being picked clean by fatigue, and even his fur was loosening beneath every brush.

No wonder the children stared at them.

If Sonic got some sleep, he would look a whole lot better. Those shades under his eyes wouldn't fade – but they would at least recede and he would stop losing weight. But he couldn't sleep. Demons – real or imagined - prowled his bed just out of sight. Even the nightlight did not seem able to dredge out his horrors. Tails thought a bit of renovation in his room might allay these sudden phobias, but soon afterwards Sonic was getting scared of what might be inside the fridge, a kitchen drawer or the cupboard beneath the stairs. Soon too it was the cellar, the attic. What might lurk under the floorboards. Behind the walls. Behind every curtain. Up every faucet. Under every drain. In every toy chest. Sonic believed there were _things_. _Things _waiting to get him. Evil _things _with smoky claws and dead, red eyes and spiny confronted about these terrors, Sonic would simply curl up into a ball and refuse any help. Maybe it was because – despite the inability for his brain to comprehend certain things, he still possessed the skill to know when his friends couldn't help him _or_ he still had his rock hard pride, even after everything.

Tails glanced over at Chuck who was taking no notice of them. He was deep in his newspaper, reading. The headlines in a deep bold caption read 'DEEPSEATED FEARS OF POSSIBLE SNOW STORM.' "Uncle Chuck?" The man looked up. "Should we take Sonic to the toy shop over there?" He inclined a thumb in the shop's location across the road.

"Of course, if he wants to." At once he folded the newspaper away.

Again Sonic shrugged his small shoulders and continued to swing softly.

"That there is Dream World," Chuck began earnestly as he tucked the newspaper under one arm and rose from the bench with his brown bag of food and drink clutched in the other. "The very same toy store I used to go to when I was a kid. I doubt it's changed much. You wanna go in and take a looksee?"

Sonic looked up at Uncle Chuck. His dull eyes, as lively as two pieces of leather, blinked twice as the man's question settled in. "But it's a long way."

"It's only across the road, Sonic. It'll be fine! Come on!"

"I don't know." He said plaintively. It may as well have been a mewl of protest. He gazed languidly at Chuck and Tails and then looked resolutely at the playground gravel with heady determination as if he meant to set the gravel on fire with his stare. Then he gingerly got one foot down. The tiny stones grinded beneath the sole of his trainer as he did so. There, he remained, too afraid to disembark the next foot down as if doing so would send him spilling hurtfully to the ground. As Tails went forward to help him and teach him all the usual tricks that helped the hedgehog for getting down the stairs or out of bed, Chuck beat him to it and gathered Sonic into his arms instead. Sonic peered out over his shoulder watching Chuck's retreat as they headed out of the playground. The swing seat moved forwards in the wind once, sending a screeching wail of metal as the chains creaked.

Chuck muttered a curse as they approached the road. The wind was picking up, which was fine, for the sun was out like a big bold eye shining out on the town and warming even the glass windows of the shops that were usually frosty with condensation. But now winds were battling forwards, causing the blossoming flowers on the nimble fingers of trees to rustle and sway. It was also compulsory for Sonic to wear clothes. When he had been more or less lucid three months ago he had hated wearing attire. The contact of such items against his fur felt odd, he had said. But as he thinned, and his fur thinned and his mind thinned, clothing became necessary even when he was still inside the house. Chuck had seen the weather forecast and thought they were quite safe to pop outside for half an hour without need of a coat to wrap the hedgehog in, but it turned out that he was wrong.

After waiting for a flurry of cars to pass by, Chuck and Tails walked across the road and came to the Dream World toy shop windows. There were shelves of amazing toys on display above a massive train set with a real motorized train zigzagging its way around shelve poles and teddy bears. There were colourful hanging mobiles of fish, stars and planets or of dangling bees. Stuck on the window was a giant red star sticker advertising that all stuffed toys were reduced in price by ten percent.

Chuck and Tails were awed by the treasures inside.

Sonic however only looked mildly back at the stunning displays with a frown of impending irritation blooming on his pale features. "It's too bright." He said in the warm cradle of the man's arms.

"What is?" Chuck asked, perplexed.

"He means the colours of the toys." Tails answered quickly, knowing Sonic's new state of mind far better with fine-combed practise.

Chuck shrugged lightly, "We'll go in for a spell, Sonic, and if you don't like it, we'll hop right on out." Sonic was quiet in return with a faint glimmer in each of his flat eyes. He was very quiet these days. He stopped smiling a month ago, or maybe it was longer than that, Tails could no longer be sure. What he was very sure of however, was the last time he had seen him smile. It was a cold, wintry night, and he and Sonic had stayed up to watch the Disney film The Lion King. He smiled a lot through its duration, including the part where the characters burst into song, or when the hyenas made their jokes, and aside from crying when Mufasa died, he smiled again towards the end when Simba retook Pride Rock.

Chuck walked in, pushing the heavy glass door open so that the tiny bell rang out in the shop. It wasn't too busy inside. A few children crowded round a wooden table loaded with train tracks, grassy hills, mountains, a miniature lake and a herd of robotic, yet tiny horses. The train zipped along the metal tracks with furious energy and unloaded its pile of logs into a crate before retaking its journey to collect more. Needless to say the children watching it were engrossed. Chuck caught a peek at the price tag and whistled between his teeth.

He set Sonic down. "Now mind yourself," he told him gently as though re-educating his son on how to behave, "and don't get into trouble. If you see anything you like, anything at all, bring it to me or Tails. Now have fun!" Sonic was put down and readjusting himself back to floor- - and gravity – came as a bit of a shock to him. The children were staring at him in here too, and Tails stared right back at them – this time with a dose of abhor.

At last Sonic got his sense of balance and headed in his predictable fashion of going to the left. Tails took his hand and guided him down each isle.

The toy shop was like a pleasant, nostalgic reintroduction to Christmas.

There were stuffed animals of every colour, size, shadow and species. There were toy car tracks in a loop-de-loop. Train sets, jigsaw puzzles (some dating back to the 1980's and priced in the high hundreds). Talking robots, electronic cars, virtual pets, books and old music CDs. Barbie dolls and Ben 10 figure sets. The galleries of toys seemed to go on forever. There was also a video game aisle, a board game aisle, one full of dolls, and another full of plastic safari animals. Furry hamsters that had a hundred and one phrases to sing. Doll houses, Lego sets. My Little Ponies and other collectable figures along with a long row of incredibly soft plushies.

Surprisingly, Sonic jerked away from Tails, and the kitson gave him the illusion of freedom by letting him go until he needed to turn him round, or stop him from tripping over himself. At once Sonic walked forwards, looking high up at the Barbie section before hitting the shelf, causing four Pokémon figures to come tumbling down in their shrink-wrapped packaging. Chuck laughed, patted Sonic on the head and then started to collect the toys and put them back while Sonic wandered down the aisle that was mercifully to his left.

"I think he's in his element." Tails said at length, though his voice lacked conviction.

"You think so? He looks confused to me. Then again, he always looks confused."

"Did we bring any money with us?"

"I have seven dollars. But that much will only get you a cheap plastic goat here. Besides, he won't want anything at this store. He's what, eighteen? Maybe the electric car set, but toys?" He checked his wallet. "Oh, I have an American Express card! I think buying him a new nightlight is in order!" He picked up a pastel blue one and waltzed straight over to the desk that was blissfully free of customers at that moment. Meanwhile Tails accompanied Sonic who was busy staring at the masses of soft toys crowding the shelves.

"Sonic, you ready to go now? It's getting busy in here and I don't want you getting knocked around by other people, namely the kids." Sonic kept eyeing the plushie section. They all sat or lay in pink baskets. There are dozens to choose from. From squishy alligators to fuzzy leopards, T-Rex's and kittens. He stared at them with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "Sonic?" The blue hedgehog reached forward after what feels like an age and grabbed two from the pile. A medium sized, poofy koala doll and a lanky, squishy red tiger with floppy legs and a tail. "Sonic? What's up? You like them?" Tails eyes up the price tag. Fifteen dollars each. Pricey. Sonic held up the koala bear, then the tiger, weighing each up with surveying eyes. Tails wished that Sonic would speak more. And smile too for that matter. The Sonic he used to know and love was not entirely gone – but he was well hidden, and peeped out now and again as frequently as a blue moon.

Sonic's left ear twitched. He raised the koala bear again. But then his eyes drifted helplessly to the tiger. Chuck came up behind them with the newly purchased nightlight in his plastic bag labelled Dream World in huge, blue balloon font lettering.

"Found something you like Sonic?" Chuck asked good naturally as the hedgehog continued weighing up each toy. Tails smiled despite himself. No matter what, Chuck always spoke to Sonic as if he was just another normal adult with no dysfunctional disorder. Chuck never patronized Sonic, ever, and Tails loved him for it.

"I think he's trying to choose between them." The fox said, never losing that little smile.

Chuck openly grinned back. "Tell you what, Sonic, if you take your medicine tonight without a fuss, you can have them both."

At this Sonic nodded firmly, the two toys held out before him. And just like that – out of nowhere and so suddenly – Tails saw what he thought he might never see again.

It was that blue moon. Full and as bright as the sun.

Sonic was smiling.

And that was the story of Arthur, and well, Apple the koala too. Tails still reminisced about this day long after it had been and gone, and no one knew on that day just how Arthur would come into play. But destiny had already been set, and whatever hands controlled their world, the dark things had already begun.

They began their journey home, Apple already named and packed in her plastic bag. Arthur, nameless as a newborn babe on that afternoon, was already cuddled in Sonic's arms as if he had known the toy for years. And he was still grinning. His natural features had set into place so easily as if the true Sonic had never really been absent, but had been here right beside the kitson all along.

And his joy would last a little while longer.

Until he looked at that window.

* * *

Dib07: Okay, that was the last of the really pleasant stuff. Pretty much. Man, I have pretty much no idea what to say down here, lol. Anyway the next update is going to come much, much sooner. Thanks to pokemonpuck for not letting me forget. You all have been a major support to me, and I thank every one of you. Because of you readers, writing is not only fun but rewarding.

Catch an update next week. See you there! ^_^


	3. The Man at the Window

**Dib07: An update as promised. Thanks to all my uplifting and inspiring reviews, it helps a lot. I really don't know what else to say other than please enjoy my work, and if you have any thoughts or comments do no hesitate to contact me.  
**

**xxx**

**Chapter 3: 'The Man at the Window'**

The sun was brighter than it had ever been for some time. Sonic brushed the butterflies away that were trying to land on his left ear. The butterflies were cupped in teal and honey gold, and comically zoomed around his head like mocking dancers. There was a stone wall behind them, made by villager hands many decades ago, and behind that a bank and a river that flowed along in lazy sanguinity. Tails was kneeling in ankle-deep grass and the warm summer air reeked of fresh tree blossom and honeysuckle. "I can't help what I am, Tails." Sonic was saying derisively, but there was a shadow of a smile behind his lips.

Tails hit the grass with his fists as if doing so would solve the problem. He was lost again. He was always lost now. The sun didn't matter. The warmth didn't matter. There was hard, sterile coldness underneath everything, and it frightened him. "Sonic, I need you, more now than ever. I know I always say this, but this time it's the truth!" As he said these words he felt tears build and gather in his eyelashes. They escaped the rim of his lower eyelid and dripped down.

Sonic was scratching at his ear. "It's not like there's an Eggman to fight any more. You can do this on your own."

"But I can't! I just can't! You think everything can be solved_ so_ simply, but it can't, it just can't!" He kept hitting the grass – the earth, slashing and punching. And then a finger – ever so tender and soft like a rose petal – landed on his lips and stilled his nervous disposition at once as if a hymn had been uttered in the darkest reach of an abyss and all light had stabbed into the asylum there.

"You_ can_, old buddy." His green eyes sparkled – sparkled like the glittering, green surface of the river just behind them. "Self-doubt was always my worst fear, so I never listened to it. You've been listening to yours for too long."

"How does that h-help me?" Tails asked, and heard himself sobbing. But he couldn't help himself. Sometimes Sonic was so indifferent with his confidence and that it irked Tails as much as it confounded him.

"Say now, don't cry. You know I can't stand it when ya do." Sonic reached forward and brushed some of the worst offenders off Tails' cheeks. "There now, all better. Say, let me tell you a story."

Tails sniffed and nodded. Anything to help even if it distracted him from the problem. "Please."

Sonic looked at him for a moment as if unsure of something – the story perhaps – or of Tails' ability. Then whatever he felt must have gone, for he shrugged and whimsically smiled. All the angels bowed at that point – they must have – for more clouds parted and the sunshine was truly brilliant for that moment.

"Once upon a time there lived an old man in his shack. He lived alone, and had been living alone for a really, really long time, so long in fact that he had forgotten what company was all about. Anywho, a witch came to his door one day." Tails leaned forward, his previous anger and despair forgotten as Sonic pulled him into the story. Even the birdsong and the sweet smell of tree blossom were forgotten as Tails became lost in the moment. "This witch seemed kind on the outside, and pretty too for a human, but inside she was cold, selfish and indifferent. But of course the man couldn't see what was on the inside of a person. In order to do that, someone had to be really good at seeing the truth in that person's eyes." Sonic paused, blinked for a moment and took off his gloves. It was obvious that he was getting hot. So the two of them slunk over to a patch of shade beneath a great, old yew tree. At once they felt ten times cooler. "Anyway, the man welcomed the witch inside his humble abode. For he hadn't had company in many a year and the witch was delighted at his tea-making skills and food, for never had she tasted such culinary wonders. In return she gave him a talisman that was made into a necklace. It was gold and full of sapphires. It was the prettiest thing the old man had ever seen in his life. So taken with it he was, that he made friends with the witch, and promised to invite her into his house whenever she came visiting. But when she left, he tried on the talisman."

"Where on Mobius did you hear this story, Sonic?" Tails asked. He knew he sounded anxious, and had interrupted him. He decided he didn't like this story much. But Sonic gestured his inquiry away with a wave of his hand.

"The talisman was dark, and was full of every curse imaginable. The witch made this so because all she wanted to do was make another suffer and make them hurt. Maybe for money, maybe for power. But usually it all comes down to human nature. The man couldn't take off the talisman – for it had melted into the skin around his neck. And day by day it slowly started to strangle him little by little – going deeper and deeper into his skin. He tried everything to take it off. He tried burning his own house down in his madness, for the talisman had made it so. He tried to cut it off, but instead he lost an arm. The witch heard his pleadings for mercy. She only stood there, pointed and laughed. 'You let your own doom in through the front door.' Said she. 'Tis your fault you're in this mess. Pray that your despair be quick, for there is no help for some.'" Sonic sat quietly. Tails didn't like the bland look on his face, or the horrid story that had just poured out of his brother's lips. It spooked him.

"How does that help me?" Tails croaked out at last.

Sonic stood up, and his shadow erupted out from the shadow of the tree they were resting under. He stretched and yawned. The darkness on his face had gone as quickly as a passing frown. He looked sleek, handsome and bold. Just like the painted blue sky. "You'll figure it out." He turned and looked at him, and his eyes were full of tearful warmth and compassion. It renewed Tails' own tears. "In the meantime, I love you little buddy. Don't you ever, ever forget that."

"Please, oh please don't go!" Tails rose to grab him perhaps, and hold him tight until he was nuzzling into his fur and repeating nonsensical, importunate demands until Sonic would stay. But heedless to his powers, his whims and desires, everything started to dissolve and the more Tails tried to hold on, the faster he lost it all. The world was cool and dark and the alarm clock across from him blared out 4:14 am over and over like a hot mantra. But it wasn't the decaying dream that had woke him, (though he had to admit that when he did rise the pillow was still damp from his tears), it was Sonic, who had been sleeping in the bottom bunk. The closet door was open by a fraction and it emitted only darkness in an already dark room. The curtains were open to reveal wet moonlight that poured in like a silver boon onto the red carpet and onto the table scattered with yesterday's picture books. Nothing had moved or disturbed anything since Tails had rested his head and closed his eyes, but now – in the darkness, in the quiet of night that was revered to solitude – Sonic was screaming. This was nothing new.

Tails rubbed at his eyes and fumbled for the light switch on the wall by his pillow. He flicked it and the room swelled into warm, comforting light. It dampened Sonic's cries just a little as if he himself had forgotten how easy it was to summon light for oneself, but still he cried.

Tails flung the blankets away and slid down the ladder connecting the beds in seconds. When he got down to Sonic's level he at once got to work shushing and comforting him. The hedgehog had sat up straight with the blankets grabbed to his chin like a child trying to shield himself from an advancing ghost. There was no mistaking the fear grimacing upon his face.

"What is it, Sonic? Come on, tell me." He gently tried to get Sonic to lower his hands from his chin but it was like moving boulders of concrete.

"Something...moving...in there!" He didn't point, and he didn't need to. All of his attention was focused on that partially opened closet door directly opposite on the far wall that Tails swore he had closed earlier that night.

"All right, all right. I'll check it out but there's nothing there. I promise."

"There is! There is!" He steadily insisted as though all else was a lie except for that _thing _lurking in the broom cupboard.

Tails squeezed Sonic in a hug. "Okay. I'll see to it that you're safe." Planting a kiss on his brother's forehead, he leapt down from the bed and approached the heinous closet door. Sonic was trembling behind him.

As Tails settled a hand on the wooden closet door handle he wondered for a mad moment if Sonic may be right, and something foul would truly be inside, like a great big rat (although, he had to consider, rats were only animals like they themselves), or a catacomb of spiders. Tails threw the closet door open the rest of the way and fluidly jerked down the pull cord connected to the closet's light bulb. The innards of the closet were doused in sharp, clarifying light so that nothing could hide. Sonic shrieked and dived behind the shield of his duvet. Tails rolled his eyes, smiling sadly. The light bulb revealed not horrid, drooling monsters with shaggy eyes and lurid teeth but spare sneakers on the floor, and hanging on coat hooks are spare pyjamas, nightgowns, jackets for winter, vests and on the shelf a stack of clean, spare blankets and a hot water bottle. And so Tails quickly scanned the tiny room's contents while Sonic remained trembling on the bed, blankets wrenched to his chin as if Tails was inches away from being abducted by the broom closet.

There was the same broom leaning innocently against a white plaster wall, shelves with old books lining them. An old, broken toy chest with miscellaneous bits and pieces inside. Christopher's old clothes all piled in a heap in the corner and a long, sleek black radio system with no batteries. Tails closed the door after flicking off the light inside. Sonic's eyes were still fixated on the closet door.

"Sonic," Tails calmly, patiently insisted, "there's nothing there. It's just your closet door!" Still Sonic stared, shaking. It was almost as if he truly expected the door to slowly creak open with a ghoulish hand emerging from within the oily blackness. "See?"

"They'll be back." Sonic said blandly – a flat tone he always spoke in. "You don't understand. They'll be back."

Tails waltzed back up to the bed and wriggled in beside him. He would leave the main room light on tonight, regardless of the helpful nightlights. "Get back to sleep, Sonic. Logan's coming over tomorrow and his sessions always wear you out."

"And Jody?"

"Yeah, you'll see him too, I expect. Goodnight, bro, and please stop worrying. I'm here."

"I like Jody." He said.

That night, they both slept until the alarm woke them for another day.

"So, here, is it?" Logan had come out especially with Tails while Amy and Cream kept an eye on Sonic in the parlour. Logan Hatt was a psychotherapist and a practitioner of natural medicine. He came every Thursday and Tuesday. As much as he helped Sonic, he was a strange and eccentric old man who liked wearing big hats and walked around with a cane that looked like a staff. Tails got embarrassed quite a few times. Sonic had finished watching the Harry Potter series a week ago before Chuck hired Logan, and ever since Sonic had been calling him the Wizard Man. Even Chris, who usually did not like to get involved in Sonic's affairs, had also been calling Logan names. Then again, Logan's strange nature did not sit well with Amy and Cream either. Usually both good natured and happy to welcome anyone, they saw Logan like a dirty cockroach and struggled to trust him.

"He can't even look after himself! He smells funny!" Amy had complained frequently. Tails was getting tired really fast of trying to appease everyone and keeping Logan from hearing these fast rumours. But of course not everything went to plan.

"Yes, here. At first I thought he was only imagining things, Mr Hatt."

"Please, just call me Logan."

"Well, okay. Anyway, I know he's not well, but medicine can be powerfully efficient and drugs have been known to interweave with imagination. It's all in your book."

"Yes."

"But then I came out here one night with a torch. And this is what I saw."

They were standing outside Sonic's window in the afternoon sunlight. They could look in and have a good view of the carpet, a fresh set of toys just laid out, and the corner of the lower bunk bed to the left. But that wasn't what Logan had been brought here for. Tails had pointed to a bed of flowers – beautiful red roses in a nest of lush green leaves and grasses. Mostly hidden by moss and fallen rose petals was an imprint of a pair of boots perfectly moulded in the damp mud outside Sonic's bedroom window.

Logan knelt down and rested his cane on the grass. He ran a crooked finger over the ridge of boot print. "Have you informed the police?"

"What's the point? I may be young Mr. Logan, but I am not stupid. There isn't sufficient evidence, and besides, it could have been Chuck standing here cutting away weeds from the roses or Chris peering in to see if Sonic's okay. I love my brother, but sometimes what he sees is different from the real thing."

Logan looked at the prints in the dirt for an uncomfortably long time. Tails stood with his arms folded and slowly realized that Amy was right. Yes, Logan _did_ smell funny. But it was a pleasant smell. It reminded Tails of old pages from well-loved books and coffee grinds.

"These boot prints are nine inches long and four inches across." Logan muttered at last, and stood up straight with his cane back in his hand. "It's not an overly large shoe size but the mud would have dried and distorted the shape a little. I'm no expert tracker though. And I suppose what you say is right, it could hardly mean anything. There's no need to alarm the others and start measuring everyone's shoe sizes."

"That's what I thought." However, as they left the scene of something purely innocent or diabolical, Tails looked down at Logan's shoes. They weren't terribly long or big either, and had hard soles. He knew his mind was cooking up silly, pointless things, but he couldn't help thinking that Logan's shoes might have made a good fit.

They returned to the parlour. Amy had put on another Disney film. Tails barely acknowledged it. Sonic was sitting on a pink cushion in the centre of the room and watching the opening credits. When Sonic heard them come in he turned and waved at his brother. "Sup, bitch."

Tails was so startled he almost crumbled to a complete stop. Logan had to stop fast to keep from bumping into the fox. "What?" The kitson cried, "Where did you pick that up?"

Cream had her hands over her mouth in mixed excitement and horror. Amy looked repulsed.

"The talking box." Sonic said, pointing at the television.

"Well, don't use that kind of language!"

Much to Tails' alarm, Logan was chuckling away to himself. Even Amy, who was normally as courteous as possible (even if this pained her) looked enraged at the therapist's reaction. Quickly he held up a hand in apology. "He doesn't mean anything by it, and I'm sure he won't know the foul gesture of the word. Anyhow," he coughed and straightened up. "During my visits I've thought long and hard about how to keep Sonic's brain awake. Obviously he continues to deteriorate." Tails gestured at Cream to turn the volume down as Beauty and the Beast began its ceremonious beginning. "And as I've been told, the drugs aren't working. So I thought..."

_You remove the curtains from his room so I can peer in better._ Tails thought – and it wasn't the most derivative of conclusions but ever since seeing those prints he had come to suspect anyone. Logan's face was hard to read. He was a mature adult, possibly over forty or fifty years old, and his eye brows were dark silver, as was his slim beard and long, velvety hair which was mostly always hidden under a hat. He had looked pale when he came to see the prints left behind, but perhaps he had concealed his worry at this flippant mark of his mistake?

Whatever Logan was about to say was interrupted. The doorbell rang. Heedless of the movie, Sonic grabbed Arthur by the paw, sprung up and went to answer it. Tails rushed over before the hedgehog could slam into the adjacent wall and took his hand. Logan stayed behind.

The kitson opened the door and they were blinded by the potent sunlight for a moment. "Jody!" Sonic cried, and flung his tender arms around the man's leg. Jody tipped his baseball cap at them. He was the delivery boy who seemed to have got himself every job available – from pizza deliveries to newspaper deliveries. Sometimes Sonic wanted pizza just so that he could see Jody. They had struck up a strong relationship early – and Tails did feel a tad jealous, who the hell wouldn't? But Sonic obviously loved this man for whatever reason, and Jody seemed smitten with him too.

Jody bent down and wrapped the hedgehog in a hug. The bicycle he used for his rounds lay on the drive, its stack of undelivered newspapers tied with haybale string to its basket cage behind the saddle. "Sorry I'm late, Sonic." Jody said, stroking a hand through Sonic's thin fur. Tails sighed wistfully. If only Chris would take some lessons from Jody and be more like him. But no. Some things were simply not meant to be.

"Where were you?" Sonic asked in perfect English.

"I had a party last night and drank too much. Now I'm late to deliver all these papers. It was bad of me. I wanted to see you and I was late."

"Bad of you!" Sonic repeated fondly. Jody was like Father Christmas to Sonic. It was unclear at first just why the weak hedgehog liked the young man so much. He was nothing special. He had blonde hair, dark blue eyes and thin features. Like a typical teenager really who partied too much and didn't have enough income, hence his low paying jobs. But Tails guessed that it was the _way_ Jody treated Sonic. He was overly kind, cuddled him and gave him treats. Aside from free newspapers for Chris and co, Sonic got sweets and comics. Maybe Jody was one of those fan-types who had seen Sonic on the national television when the battles between Eggman and the world were still new, and when Sonic had been a kind of celebrity. Or maybe Jody just loved animals.

"So how are you getting on, little fella?" Jody asked of him.

Sonic threw up his arms and grinned. "Beasts!" He cried.

"He was going to watch Beauty and the Beast." Tails hastily explained. "You wanna come in, Jody? You look tired and we have ice cream."

"ICE CREAM!" Sonic merrily harped back, and threw Arthur up into the sunshine before unsuccessfully catching him.

Jody looked up, smiling. The curls of his blonde hair sticking up along the sides of his hat glowed against the noon light. But then the psychotherapist piped up from within. "Tails, there is something I'd really like to try with Sonic. Can this wait or do you want me to come back on Thursday?"

Tails balled his hands into fists, and then forced himself to relax almost in the same instant. He was getting irritable as of late. And he knew it was all because of this man at the window. Maybe it wasn't Chuck tidying the flowers or Chris being stupid. But whoever the hell it was was making Sonic's life difficult. But why would a psychotherapist play out such a thing? To increase his salary and keep Sonic confused and agitated?

Tails shook his head and let the whole thing drop, for now. He was alone on this, he knew. Amy was too busy about keeping the place tidy, and Cream with her TV shows, and Chris with his studies. Besides, it was just a pair of boot prints. Harmless boot prints.

"Sorry, Jody but we have to go. Sonic's got a therapy session and he charges quite a sum."

Jody looked disheartened at this, but he squeezed Sonic another big hug. "See you later, Sonic." He stepped away and headed for his bicycle.

Sonic stood on the porch looking most upset. Then he turned back round to Tails and said, "Let's order pizza soon."

The kitson smiled.

As for Logan as his 'session,' the wizard/psychotherapist took them completely unexpectedly to Christopher's room. The boy himself was at school, and the room was quite messy. Here and there were flung clothes, the odd sock on the floor, and various game disks without their cases on every surface. "Have you ever let Sonic play a virtual game?" Logan asked simply enough.

"No, of course not. His hand and eye co-ordination skills are all off. It proves so in the hospital tests." Tails watched Logan approach the Xbox 360. He seemed to be no stranger to it. He switched it on and handed Sonic the wireless controller. At once Sonic started to chew on the left and right sticks.

"Try him on something easy and let's see how he gets on."

Tails shrugged. He saw no harm in it, but Logan was a bit much. What had computer games got to do with anything, anyway?

They tried Sonic out on a game called: 'Frogga.' It was an old arcade game based on linear simplicity. The player was a frog that had to get past roads of traffic and onto a green strip of safety on the other side, each level being slightly more difficult. It was all to do with timing and seeing the patterns. Tails had to sit down on Chris's beanbag couch for this. Not because he was tired though.

But because Sonic aced each and every level.

It must have been some kind of magic. Some ploy of devious trick. But as he watched, Sonic, looking calm and as relaxed as ever, played and completed each level with calculated sufficiency. His eyes never left the screen and his fingers worked at the controls as if he had been playing this game for years. And even before Sonic's tragic injury, he had scarcely played video games because he was intoxicated with life and freedom of the world outside.

"I don't believe this." Tails mused dumbly, however he could think of nothing more to say. He was actually speechless.

"Tails," Logan Hatt said, turning to the kitson with relish, "what is Mr. Christopher's hardest game?"

"That's a bit much for..." But as he watched the little frog bound and leap through impossible traffic, with all of his lives intact, Tails shook himself out of it and looked into Logan's grey eyes. "Dark Souls. It's the hardest game in the world, apparently. It's Japanese. Chris bought it on a whim one day, and could never get past the first boss."

Logan grinned. "Perfect!"

"There's Ninja Gaiden too, but I think Chris threw it out. He hates losing." Tails searched though all the Xbox titles on the lower shelf by the Xbox and TV. Finally he found it and drew it out. "Sorry Sonic," he said, and inserted the new disk in, "but you're going to have to stop playing."

"It was boring anyway." Sonic remarked. He put the control down and sat on the floor, hugging Arthur to his chest. As Dark Souls loaded, Tails gave his brother a cushion to sit on and before he pushed the controller back into his hands he made Sonic's character for him, for that process had tiny words to read and lots of customisable options that were confusing even to him. Once that was done Tails and Logan stood back and watched. In as little as ten minutes Sonic had got the hang on the game's mechanics and had defeated the first boss without dying once. Tails was shaking his head at this extraordinary development. Sonic had become a God of playing games. And even Chris had never got this far after hours of trying.

Tails looked up at Logan and felt a furtive wave of admiration.

Now this was progress. Even Eggman, a genius though he was, had never thought of this.

Logan knelt down by Sonic as the little hedgehog indulged in the game. "Sonic," the old man asked of him gently, "Tails has been telling me of this man you see at night. You speak of him sometimes, and he scares you."

"The man at the window." Sonic breathed without looking. He was rapt on the game.

"Yes, that's the one. What can you tell me about 'this man?'"

As Sonic played, ignoring them both as he explored the world of Lordran, he said numbly, as though in a trance: "I kinda know what's going to happen, but then I seem to lose myself, way, way up and long ago. It's there, I just can't see it. It's like fog, and being unable to find my way forwards. But I do know of him. I do know of him, the man. It's all him."

And that was all he said on the matter.


End file.
